


Sloppy seconds

by lauraloves



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Balle - Freeform, Comfort/Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, I kveld med Ylvis, M/M, Some Humor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:19:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraloves/pseuds/lauraloves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bård is thrilled to have Calle back with Ylvis for season 3 of IKMY; but unresolved feelings start to resurface, threatening to shake the foundations of their harmonious relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paint job

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself I would lay off the Balle for a little while and concentrate on other writing projects-but I just couldn't help myself! I think I need professional help. 
> 
> The title of this work and chapter titles are based on one of my favourite songs by a rapper named Watsky. I definitely recommend looking it up :)

“You really didn’t have to do this” Calle muttered. He was holding the two corners of the bed frame together as his friend secured them tightly with an electric screwdriver.

Bård simply pulled a face and waved at Calle in a dismissive gesture. “Shut up, you need a few proper nights of sleep before we start working together again…” He shook the frame to test it. “…and if you spend every working hour whining about your back like you have been today, I may have to kill you with this electrical appliance”.   

Calle smiled. He had known Bård for years, and so he knew that his mock concern wrapped in a violent death threat was actually a mask for genuine concern and affection. For this he was grateful. The two men managed to lift the corners of the large, heavy mattress and drop it onto the wooden frame. Thanks to Bård one single piece of furniture had been assembled, though Calle’s heart sank at what was still left to be done to come when he was finally on his own.

“Now you just need to make the bed” Bård remarked as he surveyed their handiwork.

“Fuck that, I’ve got some dust sheets out there, I’ll just make myself into a human rullekebab. Right now I need a beer”

Calle had no shortage of friends in Oslo willing to help him move into his new house. They had all made transferring the boxes of possessions an expedient process. Now all of them had left, with the exception of Bård, who had insisted on helping Calle reassemble the bed. Although reluctant at first, Calle had conceded, and now he was glad he had. The two men had worked together in harmony, and Calle was starting to feel a little bit better about the entire situation as they made their way into the living room. One of his friends had brought around a cooler box full of drinks to help with the move, including a few bottles of beer. Bård grabbed a cola and Calle opened a beer as he sat down on the floor and surveyed his surroundings.

"It's really coming along, within a few days you'll be all settled in" Bård smiled, joining his friend on the floor.

Calle tried to return the smile, but the day had been long and he was tired. "It’s looking good” he agreed. “Though I can't wait to paint that wall. I always said when I finally got the keys that would be the first thing I'd change"

He was referring to the long wall to his right, which for some unknown reason the previous owners had decided to paint a sickly yellow. In Calle’s opinion it ruined what was otherwise a pretty decent room.

"Let’s paint it then" Bård shot back suddenly.

Calle stared at Bård’s profile as he viewed the wall with obvious distaste "What, now?"

"No time like the present. We could at least apply a base coat in time for dinner"

"Dinner?" 

"Yea, we can order pizza and have a Paint party!" Bård said the last two words in English, in his peculiar ‘Valley girl’ American accent that never failed to make Calle laugh.

"Paint party? Did you make that up?”

“No, Calle, it’s, like, totally a thing” Bård continued with his scarily accurate portrayal of a Valley girl as Calle doubled over in hysterics. “Gawd you’re, like, so ignoraaant”

“Shut. The. Front. Door. Oh my GOSH, like, if you insist” Calle answered in a matching impersonation. He switched back to Norwegian when a thought occurred to him. “But didn’t you say you have plans?"

Bård shook his head, smiling. Suddenly he shot up from the floor “back soon, gotta piss!”

Calle was still smiling as he moved some of the boxes away from the offending wall. He had already set up the dustsheet and started applying masking tape to the light switch when Bård finally reappeared, stuffing his phone into his pocket. Bård found a tin of undercoat paint and started stirring it with a wooden spoon as Calle finished prepping the wall. Just like with the assembly of the bed, they worked together quickly and efficiently.

Within half an hour the wall was white, and although it wasn’t perfect (at least one more coat of paint was needed) it was so much better. Calle stood back to appreciate the full effect, trying to picture what the room would look like when it was finished. Yet he had trouble conjuring such an image, and he wondered if this space would ever feel like home. Suddenly he felt an arm around his back, pulling him closer in the briefest of half-hugs. He turned to look at Bård, smiling as he noticed the tiny white dots spattered across his face from the paint roller.

“What are you looking at?” Bård enquired. He must’ve been staring for longer than he realised. Calle met his questioning stare.

“You have some paint on your face. Left cheek” Calle answered, looking down at the floor as he spoke.

Bård freed his hand from Calle’s shoulder and wiped his left cheek. He looked back up at Calle. “Did I get it all?”

“Yep” Calle lied.       

Bård insisted on paying for the pizza, and after placing the order they tried and failed to locate the pillows so they would have something comfortable to sit on. Calle settled down on the dustsheet as the buzzer indicated the arrival of their order. As Bård rushed to retrieve the pizza the phone rang beside Calle. He answered it reflexively.

“Hello?”

“Bård?” It was a woman’s voice. Unfamiliar. Calle immediately realised his error.

“No sorry, this is Calle, but Bård will be back in a moment”

There was an awkward few seconds of silence on the line before the woman spoke again, the previous light tone in her voice replaced with something short and blunt. “Right, I see. No, it’s fine. Bye”. The woman hung up abruptly and Calle put down the phone as Bård entered the room, pizza box in hand.

Calle had meant to bring up the awkward phone call straight away, but it was forgotten when he realised just how ravenously hungry he was. He ate quickly and he was soon stuffed, barely looking at the other man as he sated his hunger. Once he was uncomfortably full, he reached for a strip of kitchen roll and wiped his mouth. As he looked over at his companion a thought occurred to him, causing him to laugh bitterly.

Bård looked up at the sound. “What’s so funny?” Bård enquired, mouth full, pizza in hand.

Calle hesitated, before elaborating. “Well. I’ve seen movies just like this, where the couple spend the first night together in their new home, surrounded by boxes, eating takeaway food on the floor.” He felt a blush creep over his face as spoke, especially when Bård gave him unfathomable look, still chewing his food. “But instead I’m sitting here with you”.

Bård swallowed. “You’ve been watching too many romcoms” He quipped. “And life isn’t half as romantic as they depict it in the movies. The pizza is shit and my butt is numb from sitting down too long”.

“… not to mention my conspicuously absent wife” Calle scoffed. He had to say it. Someone had to say it, or things would just be too awkward. For once Bård seemed lost for words, so instead he offered a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It was lighter than the pressure he usually applied, and felt almost tender. Calle glanced down at his phone on the floor, and it reminded him of the phone call from earlier. “Bård. I forgot to mention. I answered your phone by accident earlier. I’m sorry”

“Someone called me? Who?” Calle watched the other man frown as he reached for his phone and checked the call history. “Uh, Marit…what did she say?”

“Not much, but she sounded pretty pissed. What did you do?” He wondered if he was being too nosey, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Bård busied himself with the phone, avoiding Calle’s gaze. “I may have told her I was sick tonight, to get out of seeing her”

Calle was perplexed. “But you told me you didn’t have plans. Why did you cancel?”

Bård looked up and shrugged. “Just didn’t feel like it. Plus, you needed help”

The gesture was touching, if not a little puzzling, so Calle sought clarification. “Hold on…you turned down a woman–and the opportunity to get laid–to help me? Again, why?”

“Sex isn’t everything” Bård replied, picking at a fleck of paint on his wrist.

“Are you unwell?” Calle joked. He leant forward and in a theatrical gesture placed his hand on the other man’s forehead, pretending to take his temperature. Bård didn’t shy from the touch as Calle expected him to. Instead he stared intently into Calle’s eyes, like he was prone to doing. Calle realised his hand was still in place and quickly retracted it. “Why didn’t you just tell her the truth?”

Bård shifted seemingly uncomfortably. “Well, since you’re having such a hard time believing I’d turn down sex to sit in a cold and empty house to eat pizza with you, I figured it would be the same for her”

Bård had nailed it on the head. Calle did have trouble believing that any friend of his would act so selflessly to help him out. “Well thanks. But you really shouldn’t have got yourself into trouble just because you felt sorry for me”

Bård collapsed backwards so he was flat on the floor with his hair fanned around him. He stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t feel sorry for you. Though I can’t help feeling a little responsible for all this”.

“Not everything is about you, Bård” Calle joked, watching as the sarcastic quip transformed the frown on his friend’s face.

“Fuck you, Calle”.

Calle smiled. It really wasn’t bad, being here alone; because he wasn’t, really. For the first time in months he was hopeful that everything would be alright.


	2. Leftovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Calle's first day at Concorde. Bård is a little distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!! 
> 
> Like with Numbered rooms', character POV alternates each chapter. Also in case you haven't noticed, this is set in an AU where the character's personal lives are pretty different to the people they're based upon. I've never added a disclaimer before because it seems pretty obvious, but this is 100% fiction. Well, my story is fiction. Balle is real.

“And have you been a good girl for your mama?” Bård questioned softly, adjusting his screen for a better view.

The little girl flashed him a smile that mirrored his own. “Of course, papa”. Yet she giggled mischievously and Bård knew that she was lying. He loved that his daughter was feisty and smart. She was only four and lived in Bergen with her mother and soon-to-be stepfather, but despite the distance Bård was delighted to observe that she had inherited many of his own attributes.

The image of the little girl in pigtails was too grainy, and he longed to close the vast expanse between them; maybe somehow reach into the screen and pull her into his arms. Bergen had never seemed so far away. He felt the need to frequently assure himself that everything he did was helping to secure her future, though really that seemed pretty hollow when he knew that four-year-olds don’t care about money.

After a few more minutes of chatter, Jorina came into view with a stern look on her face. “Lena needs to get ready for school now”. Bård simply nodded at his ex, before fixing the biggest grin on Lena and wishing her a happy day and promising he would be there soon. The connection shut off abruptly in the middle of his goodbyes, and he cursed under his breath.

He closed down skype and looked through the glass partition, noticing that a few employees had arrived and were firing up their laptops. He didn’t have to see him to know that Vegard was there too; he was usually one of the first to arrive. He scanned the area for one person in particular, but reminded himself it was too early in the day. As expected, Vegard joined him a few minutes later and they hashed out a rough plan for the week. This should’ve been an exciting day–and of course it was–but Bård had a lot on his mind.

Vegard knew Bård well enough to know when his absence was desired, and so he left the younger man to continue his work in solitude. It wasn’t anything personal, it was just how Bård liked to work. They would all meet up later and develop their ideas further, but for now it was just Bård, a pen and a few sheets of paper.

However, he found himself checking the clock on the wall far more frequently than usual, watching as the big hand raced around to catch up with the little hand. It was when the former overtook the latter that he started peeking out of the window overlooking the carpark. Soon he was alternating between watching the clock and watching the window. He contemplated making himself a hot drink, often getting up and reaching the door before changing his mind and sitting back down.

He suddenly had an idea and started furiously scribbling, smiling as the idea took shape on the paper and things started to click together. He was so immersed in his work that he didn’t see the tall figure peering in. It was only when Bård heard a light tapping on the glass that he saw Calle there, and he couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across his face. His work was forgotten as he rose from the desk and pulled Calle in for a hug.

As Bård’s face was buried in the crook of Calle’s neck he took in the faint smell of smoke on his jacket, but it didn’t bother him. It was a good smell, comforting. It just felt good to have him back. They would be spending a lot of time together in the coming months, preparing for season 3 of IKMY. Together with Vegard and Magnus, his brain was quick to append. It was going to be challenging, but exciting; he couldn’t wait to begin.

“Uhh… Bård?” Calle’s voice felt like a low rumble through the embrace.

“Yes, Calle?”

“What the FUCK is that?” 

Bård broke away from Calle to find him staring at one of the more unusual ornaments on the shelf.

“Oh that. That’s a stuffed fox”.

Calle stared back at him blankly. “I know that! But the question is _why_?”

“You never asked why. You asked what” Bård replied. He loved antagonising Calle, who within minutes of them greeting each other was already looking slightly exasperated. Success.

“Okay I’ll rephrase. Bård, why is there a stuffed fox in the office?”

“We borrowed it to create an elevator-based exhibition of stuffed woodland creatures. Except Vegard broke it so we had to buy it. You know… the usual”.

“It’s creepy”

“Well I think it’s beautiful. Go on, I dare you to touch it”.

“Are we still talking about the fox here?” Calle shot back, winking in an exaggerated suggestive manner.

Bård tried to think of a witty retort but for once he failed. He just simply pulled the other man in for another hug. “It’s so good to have you back”.

Someone coughed from the doorway. “When you two are quite finished with your cosy reunion, we have some work to do”. Vegard was gripping the top of the doorframe, and he too was smiling. It was infectious today.

“Fuck you Vegard, you’re just jealous of our love” Calle announced dramatically, pulling Bård closer and pretending to nuzzle into his neck. Bård tried to play his role with equal gusto, but in Vegard’s presence he was suddenly very conscious of his proximity to Calle. He stepped away, embarrassed. Vegard gave them both a strange look before leaving the room again. Bård started to follow, but turned to see Calle walk over to the shelf and pick up the stuffed animal.

“What are you doing with that?” Bård asked. Calle had the fox tucked under his arm, wearing his solemn poker face.

“I’m bringing it along to the meeting. For inspiration”. He replied simply. Bård nodded, as if this statement made perfect sense.

The morning was filled with meetings, the objective being to fill Calle in on what had already been discussed for the upcoming season, refining old ideas and coming up with new ones. This was definitely one of Bård’s favourite parts of the job, and it was something that Calle really excelled at. Although working with David Batra had been fun in its own way, nothing compared to the work dynamic with their original sidekick. Calle knew both brothers better than most, and as such he was good at extracting and contextualising the almost-psychic exchange of ideas between Bård and Vegard. As a result, the brothers didn’t have to continually explain their ideas to their other colleagues, and everything went much more smoothly. Furthermore, Calle was funny, in a unique and understated way that differed from his stage persona. In fact despite his recent personal troubles, he seemed funnier than ever to Bård. He found himself giggling at all Calle’s contributions to the discussions; even the ones he knew wouldn’t work.

“Bård… BÅRD!” Vegard was clicking his fingers in front of his face to snap him out of his own mind.

“What?”

“I was asking you a question. Can you think of any ideas for the segment with Magnus and Calle?” The whole room was now looking at him questioningly. His gaze wandered over to Calle, who had now begun absent-mindedly stroking the stuffed fox on the table. He stared at his hands as they ran slowly through the red fur.

“Taxidermy?” He choked out. Suddenly he was onto something.

“What?” This time it was Vegard asking for clarification.

“Well, not just taxidermy”, he explained. “Magnus and Calle could compete against each other in manual hobbies–like taxidermy, wood carving, etcetera–and we could invite experts to judge their efforts. That would fill up some time and be educational too”.

The idea was a hit. As the writers and other production crew members started to run with the concept, Bård and Calle’s eyes met over the hive of activity, the older man looking down at the fox and back up at Bård knowingly, issuing a silent thumbs up. Bård was smiling so much his cheeks were aching. Yes, it was good to have Calle back.

 


	3. Baggage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is having fun celebrating Bård's birthday, except for Calle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have another dollop of angst and sexual frustration. I love you all.

Calle nursed his beer, lost in his own thoughts as the people surrounding him at the table got increasingly more rowdy. It was a Thursday night, so he was expecting the post-work celebrations to be over relatively quickly. Yet it was one of those impromptu nights where a ‘quick drink’ turns into two, and two turns into three, then suddenly someone yells “let’s get some shots” and it all goes to hell. Normally Calle was more than up for such a night, but tonight his heart wasn’t in it. His heart–and mind–were very much elsewhere. Conversations took place around him, but he didn’t have the energy or the inclination to get involved with any of them. As such, none of his work colleagues noticed when he rose from the table and went outside for a smoke.

He relaxed slightly as he inhaled the first drag, contemplating his next move. He knew he could make his excuses and leave, but where would he go? His apartment was still pretty bare, and the few possessions he did own held significance, memories. Many of them had been bought with _her_. So right now, he desired nothing less than sitting alone in a museum of his failings.

“What are you doing out here?” Bård was smiling, flushed and eyes shining. Calle’s eyes were immediately drawn to the badge pinned to his chest. It was the size of a dinner plate with ‘21’ on it in gaudy lettering; except the ‘2’ had been struck through and replaced with a hastily-scribbled ‘3’.

“I’m holding court with my band of merry men. You can’t see them because they’re invisible” Calle gestured to the empty space around him. Bård’s look of confusion indicated to Calle his state of drunkenness. He rolled his eyes. “I’m smoking”

“You’re being a bore. It’s my birthday and I command you to have fun!” Bård had planted himself in front of Calle, and was pointing at his chest in an act of mock aggression.

Calle smiled despite himself, squaring up against the other. “You COMMAND me? I’ve been in the marines, boy!”

“Whatever. I’m still your boss. Military rule doesn’t apply at Concorde TV”.

“Fine. If you’re forcing me to have fun… but can I at least finish my cigarette first?”

“Sure” Bård answered as he shuffled beside Calle. Both men leaned against the wall in a mirrored action. “So, what’s the matter with you, then?”

“It’s nothing”. Calle shuffled his weight between his feet and looked down as he spoke. He knew that he couldn’t look into Bård’s eyes and lie. That was impossible. Bård seemed to sense this, because he jerked Calle’s head to the side to look at him straight on.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight is your night. Bård… let me go” Bård had moved his hands up to Calle’s face, smooshing his cheeks together. It made talking a little tricky.

“I’m not letting you go until you tell me what’s wrong” Bård replied.

For a brief moment Calle considered never telling Bård what was wrong. The contact, the closeness, it felt nice, despite Bård’s cold hands. He exhaled. “The divorce was finalised today”.

As promised, Bård let go abruptly. “Fuck. I’m sorry”.

Nothing more was said as Calle finished his cigarette. He fought the urge to light up another. “When did everything get so complicated?” Although Bård was standing beside him, he addressed the question to no one in particular. Of course, he wasn’t just referring to his failed marriage. It seemed that no one’s personal lives were taking the envisioned course. Vegard was continually frazzled from looking after his own mini army of children, and Bård had been bouncing from woman-to-woman since his relationship with his daughter’s mother ended.

Bård contemplated for a moment, before answering. “Oh come on. Show me someone who has got no baggage, and I’ll show you someone who has got no story”. Calle shot a look at his friend, amazed that even whilst drunk he could say something so profound. He continued: “Come on, this is a new beginning”.

“I'm 35, I feel too old for 'new beginnings'” Calle sighed, resigned.  

“That's bullshit. You hear those stories about men who work into their 80s. Healthy, strong as oaks. Then they die within weeks of retirement. Everyone needs to keep moving, or they stop altogether.”

“I don't think that principle applies to love and marriage, Bård”.

“Of course it does. It means that you need to work at it”.

“You're saying I didn't?” Calle shot back angrily at what he felt was an accusation.

“No. Actually it’s the opposite. I know it couldn't have been easy for her, the distance. But if I was married to you I would have moved here in a heartbeat”

“Wait, did you just say 'If I was married to you?'” It seemed Bård didn’t quite know what he had said, and why Calle stared at him, trying to comprehend the words.

Bård just looked back, smiling weakly. “You know what I mean”

Calle really didn’t, but he let the comment slide. It wasn’t important.

“So, how is the apartment?” Bård enquired, and Calle was grateful for the switch in conversation.

“Getting there. I just have a few small things which I still need to collect. Then there is the small matter of my car. I'm going to head down to Bergen to collect it all this weekend.”

“So you have to…”

“I’m going to see her”, Calle affirmed, before continuing bitterly. “It’s going to delightful”.

“I’ll be in Bergen too. Family stuff. If it all gets too… crazy… you know you can call me, right?”

“Thank you” Calle said simply, though he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “Let’s go back inside”

With Bård’s help Calle was able to forget his present situation. They all played a ridiculous drinking game called ‘thumper’, where they had to replicate moves and facial expressions. Any failures meant taking a drink as forfeit, and it became immediately obvious that everyone was targeting poor Vegard, causing him to drink far more than he was accustomed to. As he missed his stool and fell to the floor, Calle knew it was time to send him home. Calle and Bård escorted Vegard out of the club, holding up either side of him. They laughed as they bundled Vegard into the taxi and he waved pathetically at them.

“Stupid Vegard. His wife won’t be best pleased when she sees the state he’s in”. Bård giggled.

Calle yawned. Some time had passed since their earlier exchange, and he was tired. They looked at each other, and Bård yawned too.

“Come home with me?” Bård questioned.

Calle was caught off-guard by the request, unsure of the motive or meaning behind it. Then he realised he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be alone tonight, his stomach fluttered as they continued staring into each other’s eyes. “Okay” he smiled.

“Great, maybe we could get pizza on the way home!” Bård slurred, a wide, inhibited grin across his face.

“Stay here, I’ll get our coats and tell everyone we are off” Calle ordered, leaving Bård swaying, eyes glassy and smiling to himself. Calle located their coats in a pile at the table, where a few of their colleagues were still playing drinking games. There were going to be some seriously sore heads in the morning. They tried to drag Calle into the game, so it took a while to persuade them that no, he didn’t want to do another round of tequilas and no, he didn’t want to take his clothes off and streak down Carl Johans Gate.

When he finally stepped out into the street Bård was nowhere to be seen. He scanned the row of people smoking and chatting outside as he picked up his phone and called him. It went straight to answer phone. Then he spotted a couple across the road, a woman in a skin-tight black dress pushing a man hard against the wall and kissing him passionately. His insides twisted when he realised the man was Bård. He was reacting enthusiastically to the woman’s advances, one hand travelling from her lower back down to her rear as she gripped hold of his hips.

Calle felt bad. But he felt bad for feeling bad. After all, Bård was single and it was his business. He shouldn’t begrudge his best friend a little fun on his birthday. He couldn’t recognise the cold feeling that spread through his chest. The panic. The hopelessness. He still had Bård’s coat, but as he watched the two bodies practically meld together in heated passion, he knew that Bård’s thoughts couldn’t be further away from his coat, or Calle. He hailed his taxi, feeling more confused and foolish than ever.


	4. Broken hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after Bård's birthday drinks, and there a few sore heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How am I doing? Are you bored yet?

He woke up feeling warm. Way too warm. As consciousness crept in, so did the realisation that the heat wasn’t just emanating from his core. He felt it on his skin; more specifically, his bare chest. Soft lips made contact with his left nipple, and a hot, wet tongue swept over it. He grunted, opening his eyes slowly.

The face of a gorgeous, blonde woman came into view, huge blue eyes staring eagerly into his own. He mentally scrambled for some context to this situation; which was one he had found himself in all too often this past year. “Morning, birthday boy” the mystery woman smiled. She really was a pretty young thing, but there was nothing in her smile that held any interest for Bård, which is probably why he had taken her home. Home. At least he was in his own bed this time. He wouldn’t have to face the awkward situation of navigating himself from a strange part of town. Of course, the flipside was the question of how he was going to get this woman out of his house as quickly as possible without seeming like a jerk.

She continued the trail of kisses as he greeted her in turn, all the while simultaneously trying to recall the woman’s name, plan his escape route and work out exactly how this had all happened. Suddenly a half-formed memory came into his brain.

“Calle” he mumbled to himself.

“It’s Karina, actually” the woman said, confusion evident on her perfect porcelain features. Bård was thankful that she had volunteered her name.

“I, meant, I think I was meant to help my friend get home, or something” he explained, reaching to the bedside table where mercifully there was a bottle of water to quench the unbearable thirst.

“It’s okay” she whispered in between kisses on Bård’s chest. “I’m sure he was able to get home by himself”. She continued kissing lower and lower, opening her mouth a little more each time. Normally he would find the sensation irresistible, but this morning he was irked, unsettled.

“Look, it’s been lovely getting to… um… know you, I’d I wouldn’t mind you staying under normal circumstances, but I really need to get to work. I’m sorry”.

“It’s okay” Karina soothed sweetly, but her smile was a thin disguise for the obvious disappointment underneath the surface.

He excused himself to shower, batting away her unsubtle hints to join him. He let the hot water run over his body a little bit longer than necessary, piecing together his memories of the night before. He remembered the drinks all too well. He remembered Calle being quiet and withdrawn, and resolving to cheer him up. He remembered going to find him and hearing about the divorce. Had he hugged him? He remembered wanting to. He remembered laughing. He remembered Vegard falling down and chuckled at the memory of helping Calle scoop him off the floor. He remembered being outside with Calle, and then suddenly she was there, her kisses were soft and welcoming in the chilly March weather. He wasn’t looking to take her home, but when he couldn’t find Calle and no one knew where he was, she found him again and they ended up in the taxi together. The sex was a scattered memory, the only indication that it wasn’t a dream was the love bite on his abdomen.

When he re-entered the bedroom Karina was in last night’s black number. He resolved at least to drop her home on his way to work; she couldn’t walk home looking like that. She eyed him in his towel, leering as he dressed in front of her. This felt wrong, so wrong.

Back at the office, he was mildly amused to see the effects of last night evident in all his colleagues, with the exception of Magnus, who had been too ill to attend. He was here today though, offering to run down to the local shop for hangover treats for his suffering colleagues. He stopped at Bård’s desk as he was opening up his emails. “Do you want anything?” His manner impossibly and infuriatingly chirpy. Bård did his best to muster a smile. It wasn’t Magnus’ fault that it felt like thousands of tiny, invisible woodpeckers were hammering into his skull.

“No thank you, Magnus”

“Okay. Where’s Calle? I’ll go and ask him if he needs anything”

“I don’t think he’s here yet” Bård answered. He had looked for him earlier to seek some clarification of the events of last night, but there had been no sign of him.

Magnus looked confused. “Oh, so he didn’t come in with you?”

“No. Why do you think that?”

“I heard someone mention something about Calle staying at yours last night, so I assumed you would arrive together”

The penny dropped, and Bård was devastated for evidently inviting Calle to stay and then unceremoniously retracting his invitation by sleeping with Karina. When he recalled the discomfort he felt dropping her home and awkwardly accepting her phone number, he knew that he had taken the wrong person home.

The day past without much incidence. Calle arrived and even passed Bård’s office a few times, but he didn’t greet him until the afternoon, when he shuffled in awkwardly to hand Bård his coat. As he turned to leave again without saying anything, Bård spoke up.

“Calle. I’m sorry”

Calle stopped in his tracks, turned and answered with a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Bård stood up and walked over to the man and wrapped his arms around him. Except Calle didn’t relax into it like usually did, remaining stiff and awkward. Bård pulled away, embarrassed and a little fearful.

Yet he couldn’t spend the day dwelling on last night’s misdemeanours; he was due to fly to Bergen that night and so he had a lot of work to finish off. It was challenging at the best of times, and near impossible on a hangover. He battled through, and as the clock struck four he got in the taxi for the airport.

Going back to his hometown was bittersweet. It had been the setting of many wonderful memories; but it was associated with difficult times too. The separation with Jorina hit him hard, and every time he said goodbye to his daughter his heart broke just a little. He thought of Calle, who was also arriving back in Bergen the following day to collect the last of his possessions from his ex-wife. Having had no children meant they could essentially sever contact and each go their separate ways, but Bård knew that it didn’t make his friend’s suffering any less acute. He thought back again to their talk at the bar on his birthday. When did life become so complicated?

Saturday came, and Bård was able to momentarily forget his troubles and all the complications and just enjoy a day of fun with his daughter. He had taken Lena to the aquarium, bought her ice cream (ignoring Jorina’s request not to fill their daughter with junk food) and picked flowers in the park. They sat together on the grass, Lena giggling as her father let her weave daisies into his hair when he first heard his phone buzz. It wasn’t until much later after he had kissed his daughter goodbye that he finally checked his phone to see a message from Calle: _Can we meet?_

His heart pounded as he walked into the coffee shop where his friend was sitting in the corner, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. He mumbled his greeting and took the seat opposite, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him. He didn’t have to wait long for Calle to reveal the source of his distress.

“She’s got a new boyfriend” he said simply, stirring his coffee.

“Oh. I’m so sorry” was all Bård could utter in reply.

“It’s okay. I suppose I should’ve prepared myself for this eventuality. It’s just now it’s happened I feel hopeless and sad”

Bård was stunned. He had never heard Calle talk so openly about his feelings before. Normally he would crack a joke or change the subject entirely.

“Do you still love her?” Bård found himself asking. Immediately he regretted it; what a stupid question. But Calle answered with a shake of his head.

“I don’t think so. Too much has happened for me to still love her. I think I’m mostly bitter. I just don’t see how she could move on so quickly. How can she be okay when I just feel so utterly broken?”

Bård once again battled an overwhelming urge to gather Calle into his arms and hold him. “It’ll get better, I promise” he soothed, placing his arm on the other man’s shoulder. He ignored the flip in his stomach when Calle grasped the hand and squeezed it.

“I know, I just want to leave now, but my car is being serviced and won’t be ready to go until tomorrow morning”.

“Let me come back with you” Bård said. The words rushed out unchecked, surprising even Bård.

“What?” Calle stared at Bård, mouth agape.

“I can’t bear the thought of you driving back to Oslo by yourself. I’ll cancel my flight and come back with you, keep you company”

“Bård, it’s a seven hour journey, why would you do that?”

There was the rub, the realisation. At that moment he recognised that his feelings ran way deeper than the normal confines of friendship, and the revelation was startling. He wanted to be the one to kiss it better. He belied the intensity of the feelings which bubbled under the surface with a little smile.

“It’s what friends are for”.


	5. Road trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bård and Calle are on the road to Oslo, and Bård has trouble staying awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How am I writing this so quickly? Also how is this nearly as long as 'numbered rooms' and I haven't even got to any smut yet? Maybe I'm growing as a writer... or not.

Calle had intended it to be a flying visit-literally. Touch down in Bergen, grab his car keys and drive home to Oslo that same day. As much as he loved his hometown the thought of the mess he had left there was too much for him right now. Yet life had other ideas. Months of sitting idle in the driveway meant that his car wasn’t exactly in driveable condition, but thankfully he found a mechanic who was willing to do all the necessary checks to get it back in a working condition at short notice. The car wasn’t the problem. The problem was his ex-wife.

He had hoped they could clear the air, part ways on good terms. He had been floored by her admission that she had moved on and found happiness in the arms of another man. It wasn’t that he was longing for a reconciliation, but whilst they were both still single there was always that small glimmer of hope. Now that hope was gone, and Calle had no choice but to move on.

After a night of fitful sleep he checked out of his hotel and picked up the car. He couldn’t wait to be on the road again, but it seemed he had somehow acquired a passenger. He was more than surprised when Bård suddenly offered to keep him company on the long drive home. Calle initially refused the offer. After all, it was an insanely selfless gesture, even for his excessively generous friend. Yet the more he meditated on the idea, the more the prospect of seven hours in close quarters with the man he was so fond of seemed irresistible. It was certainly preferable to spending those hours alone.

Bård had been staying at his parent’s house, and as Calle pulled up outside Bård emerged, looking weary as he trudged down the drive. However, he smiled as he put his bag on the back seat and settled beside Calle. Calle appraised his friend in disbelief. “Last chance to put a stop to this madness, Bård-I can drop you to the airport and you can be back at your apartment before I hit Hardangerfjord”.

Bård shook his head. “And miss an entire day of your witty repartee? No thank you. Drive, good sir” he yawned and closed his eyes.

“Bård, are you going to sleep the entire journey?” Calle didn’t mind, but he felt it defeated the object slightly given that his friend had insisted on keeping him company.

“I just didn’t sleep well last night. Stuff on my mind” He admitted. Calle was curious to know what, but decided not to press further. Bård would tell him if he wanted to. As Calle pulled onto the main road, Bård opened his eyes mumbled drowsily “I’m sorry”.

“Don’t be sorry. You can sleep if you need to”

“No, I promised I would keep you company. Here’s the deal. If I fall asleep, you have permission to wake me up any way you like”.

Calle arched his eyebrow. “Any…way?”

Bård nodded, before confirming. “Any which way imaginable”. He said slowly and deliberately.

Calle didn’t know why, but Bård’s proposal was made his pulse quicken with the sheer possibility of what kind of mischief he had been permitted to make. His first opportunity came just twenty minutes later. He noticed Bård’s head flopping to the side, frame relaxed. He reached down to the opened packet of jelly beans and popped one in his mouth. He tilted his head towards Bård before spitting it out, hitting the man square on the cheek. Bård awoke with a start to Calle laughing.

“Huh? What did you do that for?” he questioned, rubbing his cheek to find it sticky.

“You said ‘any which way imaginable” Calle chided.

“Well I didn’t imagine you’d be so gross” Bård complained.

The jellybean had the desired effect, and Bård stayed fully conscious for three whole hours afterwards. They played a number plate game with the other cars on the road, guessing which region the car came from based on the prefix letters on the registration numbers. This descended into a silly game where they had to tell the life story of the person driving that car, complete with regional dialect. Calle didn’t think he’d ever had so much fun on this journey before. His stomach muscles were sore from laughter. He was in the middle of his Trøndelag monologue when he noticed that Bård had drifted off to sleep again. This time he wet his finger and wiggled it in the other man’s ear. The reaction was immediate, with Bård squirming away from the touch.

“Calle, please stop being disgusting!”

“Please stop giving me a reason to be disgusting”

“Never!” Bård mumbled drowsily as he settled back down, and Calle was satisfied with this answer.

Calle knew they would need to stop at some point to refuel, but he resisted as long as possible. Yet just after 2pm he saw a sign for an upcoming roadside inn and felt the pangs of hunger he had been suppressing all morning. When he suggested stopping Bård gave a non-committal shrug, but since he wasn’t driving he had no say in the matter. They settled into a soft booth, sitting closer than was probably necessary. The food wasn’t great but it would be enough to sustain them for the remainder of the journey.

When their bellies were full, Bård leaned back with a satisfied sigh. Calle pulled out his satnav device, checking the route for the remainder of the journey, when he felt a warm, dead weight fall onto his shoulder. He tilted his head to see that Bård had fallen asleep a third time, his head slouching onto Calle. Calle’s arm was wedged between their bodies, but he manage to carefully extricate it and moved his arm around him, telling himself it was necessary to support Bård and prevent him from sliding off the seat.

After a minute Bård stirred, and Calle was almost afraid he would wake up, but instead he shifted his head slightly so that his mouth was closer to Calle’s neck. Each exhale felt deliciously warming against his skin. He couldn’t help it. His mind started racing, filling up with yet more imaginative things he could do to wake up Bård. He was having far too much fun with the concept, and felt an overwhelming urge to do something really naughty, like run his hand up Bård’s thigh, or run his tongue along his neck, perhaps nibble at the delicate flesh. Just how far would be too far?

He got the answer to his question when he felt himself getting hard. _Oh fuck, not here._ His heart was hammering as he tried to control his errant thoughts. He panicked at the thought of Bård waking up and finding himself in this position and seeing Calle’s very obvious physical response to the proximity. Yet at the same time he didn’t want to move away. This was the most intimacy he’d had with anyone for months. He had fucked a few women in the aftermath of his separation, but it had felt awkward and unnatural. This closeness was something different entirely. He lingered for a few minutes more, marvelling at how impossibly long Bård’s lashes were, counting little freckles he had never noticed before. He used his free hand to tenderly push back a wisp of hair off Bård’s cheek. The younger man sighed at the touch, smiling sweetly in his sleep.

And that’s when Calle knew. The feeling was like he had been seared in the chest with a white-hot poker. It was pure panic. Because he couldn’t fall in love again. He couldn’t give in to these feelings and sully the only pure and lovely thing he had going on in his life. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

With difficulty he got his physical impulses under control, pulled away and nudged Bård awake. The younger man blinked at Calle confused. “It’s time to go, Bård”.

“Did I fall asleep again?” He muttered, pulling on his coat.

Calle nodded. “Yep. You should probably seek professional help for your shocking bouts of narcolepsy”, he added drily, no trace of humour in his voice.  

Bård sat up in the booth slowly and reluctantly. “Whatever. Calle, pull me up” he whined, holding his arms outstretched. Normally Calle wouldn’t think twice about obliging with such a request, but instead he just rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, forcing the younger man to trudge behind him back to the car in silence. There were no more silly games, no more playful touches. When Bård fell asleep a fourth time Calle breathed a sigh of relief and let silence reign in the car.


	6. Thin walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calle kisses all the guys. Except for Bård.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aiming to finish this in time for my birthday so I can actually go out and celebrate instead of shipping these two all the time. Wish me luck!

Their visit to the United States started with a short stint in Massachusetts to film a music video of the same name. The song had been written weeks before. Before he knew. Now Bård was relieved that the vocals had been arranged so that he hadn’t had to sing any non sequiturs about kissing men and blow jobs. It was a bit too close to the mark for him. The truth was, whenever he sat idle his thoughts would turn to Calle. When the make-up lady had finished touching up his face, his gaze inevitably drifted to the tall figure leaning languidly against the wooden porch frame smoking his cigarette. He wanted to approach him, say something and find an excuse to touch him, but he felt the gesture would be unwelcome. Ever since their road trip it felt like the other man had imposed some distance between them. Physically, at least. Though perhaps Bård was imagining it? Maybe he was now hyper-aware of the physical distance when before he had not dwelled on such things? Perhaps it was just his imagination going into overdrive. When the director called him to action he was once again forced to put his personal feelings aside and got ready for his scene.

The shoot for _Massachusetts_ had been a lot of fun. They had drafted in cast and crew members from the local area, who had done a fantastic job of pulling everything together. Everyone had been friendly and welcoming to the Norwegians right until the end, even creating a makeshift wrap party. Bård had never been to a wrap party before, least of all his own. In Norway they simply went home after finishing their scenes, perhaps occasionally going out for drinks or a meal with the crew. However, things were done differently in the states. A table had been set up under a marquee with an enormous keg of beer and various snacks. Everyone sat around tables and chatted enthusiastically about the shoot. Bård knew they would never see international success, but they had certainly won over a few American fans, who were asking them about some of the comedy they did back home.

“One of the most important things we’ve learnt is that comedy is better when there is a hint of truth to it”. Vegard chugged down what was left of his plastic cup, and grabbed yet another handful of potato chips. Jodi the casting agent was hanging on his every word, absent-mindedly twirling her hair as she listened to Vegard talk. Suddenly she turned to Bård to address him.

“So, Bard, does that mean you really cry when Mufasa dies?” Jodi asked, mispronouncing his name in a way he had grown accustomed to these past few days. 

“Every. Single. Time” Bård replied, letting his voice crack a little for added effect. Calle, who was sitting beside him, reached over to pat his back in a faux-comforting gesture. Bård’s heart swelled at the touch, but he knew the gesture was forced. He knew that the only reason they were sitting together now was because someone had commandeered Calle’s original seat, forcing him to settle in the only emaining vacant spot beside Bård.

“And Carl, does that also mean you kiss guys?” the woman continued, and Bård looked to the man beside him sharply. As Calle opened his mouth to speak, one of the Norwegian crew members piped up “Calle kisses ALL the guys!” and with that everyone fell about laughing. Calle briefly told the Americans about how his sketches performed with Ylvis and Raske Menn involved a lot of physical humour, including kissing.

“It really doesn’t mean anything, though” Calle explained. “Like I could kiss Vegard right now and that doesn’t make us gay, c’mere Vegard!” Before Vegard could process what was going on, Calle had leaned over the table, grabbed him by his plaid shirt and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. Vegard pulled away in a reflex action, wiping away the kiss with distaste. Bård watched the scene unfold before him. He should’ve laughed along with everyone else, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to. He found himself actually envying his brother for the ease and simplicity of his interactions with Calle. As the conversations continued around the table, Bård looked over at Calle and the look was returned. He stared into his pale eyes intently, trying to read into the look whilst simultaneously convey everything he was feeling. After all, he could look but he could not touch. Yet as expected, Calle turned away again.  

As night fell and temperatures dropped, the cast and crew disbanded and the guys made their way back to the hotel. They ended up talking in Bård’s room for a little while, finalising the details of their flight the following day. When everyone had left Bård took out his contacts, showered and changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants. He noticed a phone charger in the socket and he remembered that it was Calle’s. Calle probably wouldn’t need it back right away, but Bård was itching for an excuse to go and knock on the man’s door. Normally he would be able to do such a thing with no pretense, but lately he felt nervous and overly conscious of respecting the walls that Calle had started to build up.

His was actually nervously as he knocked at the door and heard the voice inside beckoning him in. He crept in, taking in the sight of Calle reading in the chair. He looked completely relaxed, and Bård realised he hadn’t seen him like this in weeks. Right then Calle looked up and seeing Bård standing there he immediately tensed and sat up straight. Bård resolved to find out what was going on.

“Hey, you left this in my room” Bård tried a smile as he dangled the charger in the air.

“Oh, thanks Bård” Calle put his hand up to grab it, but Bård playfully pulled it away so it was out of Calle’s reach, causing him to grasp at thin air. Calle was not amused by the game.

“Would you please just give it to me?” he demanded sharply. Bård was taken aback by harsh tone, causing him to drop the cable into Calle’s lap. Calle busied himself plugging it into the wall and attaching his phone.

“Calle, is everything all right between us?” Bård asked nervously. He chewed on his lip in the ensuing silence, watching Calle shut his eyes and open them again. Calle turned his head so he was facing Bård, but he didn’t look him in the eye. He seemed to be focusing on a spot on the wall beyond.

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” Calle eventually replied after a few seconds.

Bård stepped closer so that he was shadowing the other. “Maybe I’m crazy, but it seems that we don’t talk as much lately, like you’re avoiding me. We work together. You can tell me if I did something wrong”

Calle fixed his gaze on the hands that rested in his lap. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just tired”

Bård contemplated leaving it at that and letting Calle get some sleep, but there was another something else that had been bugging him all evening. The beers had given him a little Dutch courage, so he decided to just spit it out.

“…then there was that thing with Vegard”

At that Calle looked up suddenly. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you kiss Vegard?” The question sounded innocuous in his head, but was less so when he voiced it out loud.

Calle faltered for a moment. “Why does that matter?”

“It matters because Vegard wasn’t in easy reach. You had to lean over a table full of drinks and physically pull him towards you to do it. If you wanted to prove your point about kissing it would’ve been a lot easier to kiss me. I was sitting right beside you”.

Calle stared at Bård puzzled, and the younger man panicked that he had given far too much away. But would that really be so bad? It was definitely preferable to this strange purgatory the two men had found themselves in lately. They stared at each other for a few seconds, before Calle turned away. Bård couldn’t help but feel angry. Why wouldn’t Calle just say what he was thinking?

 “Goodnight Calle” Bård muttered resigned, turning and walking towards the door. It was when Bård put his hand on the door handle that Calle finally spoke.

“It wouldn’t have been easier”

Bård turned to face Calle again. “Excuse me?”

Calle exhaled slowly, still looking down at his lap as he answered. “It wouldn’t have been easier to kiss you”.

Bård said nothing. He simply took a few steps closer again, afraid to spook the other man.

“I’ve kissed a lot of guy friends”. Calle continued. “But it’s all in the name of entertainment. I am comfortable kissing my friends because I know there is nothing behind it. It’s acting”. The man rose from his seat and approached Bård until they were standing only a metre apart. “I can’t kiss someone like that if I’m attracted to them”.

Bård shuddered. Suddenly things started to make sense. The playful touches, the lingering looks, the occasional moody silences, the tension. “You’ve never kissed me” Bård stated, seeking confirmation in the eyes of the man before him. Calle nodded.

“Exactly”.

“Oh” was all that Bård could say. So many thoughts and feelings thundered through him as he tried to process the admission. He realised that attempting to make sense of it when Calle was looking at him like that would be near impossible. He held his breath as Calle stepped closer; so close that he could easily reach out and put his arms around him if he wanted to. Which of course he wanted to. Badly.

“I couldn't sit there, kiss you and pretend it meant nothing when really it does" Calle stated, voice breathy and laden with desire.  

It was Bård who closed the gap, sliding his arms around the other’s waist and pulling him closer. There was no resistance as their bodies pressed together. His eyes slipped shut, and he shivered at the sensation of cool hands on his face, gently tucking loose strands of hair behind his ears. When their lips first made contact it was merely to brush together softly and tentatively.

They broke apart slightly, noses brushing together as they breathed the same warm, saturated air. Their movement were stilled, until Calle gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Bård needed no further encouragement as he leaned in again. His tongue demanded entrance which Calle granted willingly. The older man moaned as the hot, wet tongue glided in, probing, questioning. He felt the hands move from his face and settle in his hair, pulling slightly as the kiss intensified.

When they finally broke apart for air Calle’s lips were swollen and parted and he seemed almost in shock. Bård moved his hands up to grip Calle’s t-shirt and guide him towards the bed, moving in to kiss him again as they both collapsed onto the mattress. Calle pushed back against him but Bård’s need was stronger. He rolled on top and straddled Calle, his mouth moving down to the other’s neck, sucking and biting with an urgency he hadn’t experienced in years. Having only been with women he had never done anything like before, so he stalled momentarily as Calle panted beneath him, unsure of how to proceed. It was terrifying and dizzying and exhilarating all at once. Yet Bård needed more. So much more. 

The sounds the older man was making as Bård moved against him were delicious. He wanted to hear more. He wanted to feel more. He felt the need growing beneath him, and he was excited to explore. His hands, which had been planted either side of Calle, moved to the waistband of his jeans, fingering the smooth skin of his torso. It was when he worked at the stiff fastening that Calle’s head darted up suddenly.

“Bård” the call was a whisper, barely audible.

The younger man ignored him, grazing a thumb lightly under the waistband of Calle’s boxers as he worked to unfasten his jeans. He gasped as his thumb briefly made contact with Calle’s erection.

“Bård… no” Calle finally choked out, gripping Bård’s wrists firmly until he halted his movements.  

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted this” Bård was confused, searching Calle’s eyes for the passion that had burned in them only moments before.

Calle shook his head vehemently. “We can’t”

Calle wriggled underneath Bård, causing him to move back as Calle moved up against the headboard, knees to his chin. He had put the walls back up. It took a few moments for Bård to finally find his voice. “Why not?”

Calle took a deep breath and exhaled. “It’s like you said, we work together. Things are going well, and I don't want to risk that for a bit of fun”.

 “Is that what you think I want?”

“Well, what do you want?” Calle questioned, and Bård was at a loss. He really hadn’t thought beyond kissing him, touching him. He never stopped to think of the long-term implications of crossing that thin line. He thought it didn’t matter. Yet it clearly mattered to Calle.

“I don’t know” Bård admitted.

“That’s not good enough” Calle uttered, letting his head collapse forward until he was curled into a little ball on top of the bed.

“Don’t you trust me?” Bård eventually asked, voice weak and trembling. Calle stayed immobile in his little ball, and the ensuing silence was too loud to bear. Bård got up and retreated from the room without so much as a backwards glance. Once back in his own room he dived under the covers and wished never to re-emerge. How had things taken such a bad turn? He wanted Calle, Calle seemed to want him; why was everything so complicated?


	7. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calle reunites with an old flame, but a certain person is never far from his mind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short and sweet penultimate chapter. Hope you enjoy :)

What was Calle doing? He swirled his drink in the glass slowly and deliberately and placed it back down on the lacquered surface. He was resisting the urge to go out for another smoke, or flee altogether. Why had he decided this would be a good idea? Sitting alone in his house actually seemed the far more preferable option right now. He told himself that being alone was the opposite of what he should be doing. He needed to shift himself out of the inertia and just… get out there.

He had no doubt that’s exactly what Bård would be doing if he was here. Not for the first time he envied Bård’s ability to ricochet from lover-to-lover with seemingly no hang ups, reservations or regrets. They had barely spoken since it happened, except for when was absolutely necessary. Thankfully there was never a necessity to work alone. The few times they found themselves in a room together, Bård would flee, much like that night of the wrap party.

He checked his watch. She would be here soon. Her name was Solveig and she was an old girlfriend. Well, maybe ‘girlfriend’ was stretching it too far. Rather, she was a woman he used to occasionally hook up with when he was single and happened to be in town. It was when he was young and free and his heart was intact. Life was so much simpler back then.

Someone tapped him delicately on the shoulder. “Hey stranger”. He smiled at the soft yet deliciously husky voice he hadn’t heard in years. Sol was petite with striking dark brown hair and hazel eyes. They exchanged pleasantries and he helped her out of her coat. He subtly checked out her smooth, delicate curves as he did so. She was so very lovely, pretty and so feminine. He bought them some drinks as they caught up on lost time.

“I am so excited that you will be back on the talk show” she smiled, taking a sip from her whisky and coke. He nodded along, but he was uncomfortable with the way the conversation was shifting.

“Me too” he admitted, careful to keep his response succinct. “But hey, tell me more about your new job!”

“All in good time, Mr Hellevang-Larsen! But first what I really want to know is what it’s like to work with one of the sexiest men in Norway!” she exclaimed, placing her hand on his knee flirtatiously.

“Well, I’ve worked with myself for 35 years, I’m sort of used to it by now” he answered drily. Truth be told, he felt a little uncomfortable that the woman he was trying to get with was asking him about Vegard.

She laughed uproariously. He’d forgotten just how loud she laughed. More like a cackle, really. “I meant Bård, you strange, strange man! What’s he like?” she moved her hand a little further up his thigh. 

Fuck. This completely derailed him. He hoped that reconnecting with Solveig would help him get Bård off his mind, but within an hour she had brought him to the forefront of his mind with a bang. His mind conspired to cause mischief and spew out a wholly inappropriate response, like ‘ _he’s even sexier in person’_ or perhaps ‘ _he’s a really good kisser’_. Both were completely true. 

“He’s a great guy” He eventually managed to say, but he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face as he said it. His first genuine smile of the evening. “Bård and Vegard are in Tanzania right now” he volunteered. He wasn’t strictly supposed to tell people about the _Swahiliwood_ project, but it provided a welcome deviation from any Bård-centric questions. Although contact with the men had been sporadic at best since they arrived in Africa, they had been circulating regular updates on their progress around the company email group.

As the night went on they continued to talk, and Sol continued hang on his every word. Or rather, she was hung on something. Her hand inched higher up Calle’s leg with each passing minute, leaving Calle hot and bothered. And not in the good way. Yet wasn’t this what he came here for?

Then there came that juncture. That inevitable awkward moment where conversation had reached a lull and he was obliged to take action, like maybe graze his hand along her thigh. She was looking at him, a suggestive smile on her face. There was no question that he could take her home. He just didn’t want to.

Within an hour, he stepped through his front door and sunk into the sofa with a sigh. Despite her disappointment, Sol had taken it surprisingly well. Well, not surprising really; Calle had lied and told her he was feeling sick. Nothing kills the mood like the prospect of contracting a stomach bug. The poor woman hadn’t even wanted to hug Calle goodbye, instead waving him on as he slipped into a taxi back to his cold, empty house.

Calle started absent-mindedly stroking his left thumb. When Calle was a teenager he had lacerated the thumb while attempting to scale a barbed wire fence. It was nothing major and didn't even require stitches, but the cut had been pretty deep and now there was a scar. When Calle’s heart got broken it was like having that barbed wire wrapped around his chest. He had barely been able to staunch the flow of grief when the woman he thought he would love forever told him it was over. He held his hand up and squinted at the silvery line on his thumb. To this day, the area was numb and his thumb hadn’t felt right since. _Would he ever love like he had before, or would there always be scar tissue?_

This rare moment of philosophical reflection was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. It was gone midnight, and Calle wondered who it could be. Maybe it was Sol checking he had got in okay? He picked up his phone and his eyes widened with shock. It was a FaceTime. From Bård. His fingers acted of their own accord to answer the call, and the image that appeared on his tiny phone screen was dark and grainy. But it was him, and he was beautiful.

There were a few seconds of silence both ends of the line. Calle couldn’t process what was going on, and why Bård was calling. Maybe it had happened by accident. Then the sweet, clear voice rang through the silence of his living room.

“Hey Calle”

“Hey. Is everything okay?” Calle answered, perhaps more enthusiastically than he had intended to. In the dark he couldn’t quite make out Bård’s expression. He hoped he wasn’t sad. Not when they were continents apart.

“I’m okay. A little drunk” Bård admitted.

This fact didn’t surprise Calle too much. It was around 3am in Tanzania. “Me too” Calle replied. He didn’t want to divulge where he had been. It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. As much as he tried to fight against it, as much as it would surely mean cataclysmic heartbreak, there was only one person he wanted to be with. That was the drunken idiot who had randomly decided to call him from Africa.

“Look, I can’t speak long. The internet is really bad. I just wanted to say hey” Bård’s eyes fluttered shut and opened again as he spoke.

Calle wondered how it was possible for him to look so adorable yet so beautiful and insanely fuckable all at the same time. He pushed more lecherous thoughts aside and smiled. “Bård, are you really using up valuable internet just to call me a say hey? You’re going to regret that tomorrow when you’re unable to play candy crush”.

Bård giggled, and the laughter sounded tinny but no less irresistible. Then the laughter died and Bård looked straight at the camera, suddenly sober and very serious. Even in the dim light it was a look that made Calle’s mouth dry and his hard pound that little bit harder. Bård continued. “Not only that. I also wanted to say that I’ve been thinking about you… I can’t stop thinking about you”. He sounded out the last sentence slowly and deliberately. The little Bård on the screen paused to rub his eyes in exhaustion before looking straight back at the camera. “I miss y-“.

The screen went black and the words on the screen notified Calle that the call had been terminated. He frantically tried to call back, but at each attempt the calls failed to connect. He admitted defeat and sank back down, exhaustion creeping in. Yet as he gave in and drifted off to sleep, a small smile played on his lips.


	8. Cold coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bård travels back from Africa, there are sexy times and fluffy declarations. It's all good, folks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may actually be the fluffiest thing I've ever written. I think I'm feeling extra sentimental as tomorrow I enter the last year of my twenties. Thanks so much for sticking around and being so nice. Lauraloves ya xoxo

Bård looked out of the tiny window over the tarmac at Dar Es Salaam airport bathed in the glow of a glorious sunset. So much had happened in their short visit. He was exhausted, sure, but also excited. However, he was more excited about seeing his daughter. Due to the tight schedule, the time difference and the intermittent internet access he had only been able to call her once. In fact, he had only made two phone calls the entire trip. The second call had been to Calle. He didn’t know what that meant.  Vegard came to join him, and Bård had to stand to let him through. Unfortunately Vegard had the window seat this time. Oh great, now he would have to contend with a backseat pilot.

“I’ve just crushed Magnus’s dreams” Vegard announced, almost gleefully.

Bård narrowed his eyes at his brother. “What did you do?”

“Nothing major. I just broke it to him that the chances of _Police Lock-up_ ever getting finished, released and internationally acclaimed are slim to none”

“You don’t know that Vegard!” Bård exclaimed with mock fervour. “We could become world famous!” There was a silence, and then both men fell about laughing.

Magnus had been stationed to one of the exit seats due to his impressive height, so the two brothers were seated together. This suited Bård, as he knew he wouldn’t feel obligated to make conversation, and he wouldn’t feel rude for spending the first flight glued to his iPad. There was wifi on the plane, and Bård was dying to catch up on the goings on in the world before he could relax and take a nap. At the back of his mind he knew he was looking for something. Or rather, someone. For not the first time he cursed Calle’s stubborn refusal to participate in any sort of social media platform. It made stalking him very difficult. He checked and checked again for any sort of virtual activity, but there was none.

“So, when are you going to see him?” Vegard had reclined his seat slightly and rested his soft curls back into his headrest, as if about to take a nap.

“Who?”

“Calle” he muttered drowsily as his eyes drifted shut.

For a moment Bård panicked, but when he saw that Vegard hadn’t moved from his relaxed position he calmed down slightly. “Is it that obvious?” he questioned.

Vegard’s eyes opened and he turned his head slightly so he was facing his little brother. “You forget I know you better than you know yourself. I’ve known for a while”

“I really wish you would’ve enlightened me” Bård replied.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I can barely make sense of it myself; neither of us can. Calle doubts my feelings, and I’m just… I don’t even know” The words rushed out unhindered.

Yet Vegard simply smiled and rubbed his arm in a comforting gesture. “This is the most embarrassingly obvious piece of advice that I’m likely to ever give you, but just go to him and show him that you don’t want to be anywhere else. It sounds simplistic but it’s what he needs to know”.

Bård was relieved that Vegard knew, but he was simultaneously embarrassed to be talking about such matters with his brother. “And you’re really okay with this?”

“You’re in love. Why would I ever not be okay with that?”

Love. Was that really what this was? Bård cast his mind over the past few months with the sharp realisation that his thoughts, feelings and subsequent actions were motivated by love. Building Calle a bed so he wouldn’t have to face the first night in his new home in discomfort. The unbridled joy he felt when Calle came back to work with him again. Choosing to eschew a one hour flight to spend seven hours sat beside him as a seemingly endless road stretched before them. Vegard was right. Bård didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Vegard continued. “Of course, I mean… I don’t want to think about the…you know, stuff… but”

“Vegard?”

“Yeah?”

“Please stop”.

The journey had been long and tedious, but finally they touched down in Oslo. Bård had managed to sleep for a good portion of it, but still it played havoc with his body clock. It felt like night time when really it was mid-afternoon. He waved everyone goodbye and got into the taxi. He fully intended on giving the taxi driver his own address, but he had Vegard’s words playing in his mind. _Just go to him and show him that you don’t want to be anywhere else_.

Half an hour later he arrived at the house he had only visited once before. He hadn’t warned Calle he was coming, so the nerves fluttered in him has he rang the doorbell. When Calle answered he was wearing grey sweatpants and a matching t-shirt and his hair was a mess. For a split second Bård thought he saw a look of shock and surprise play out on the other man’s features, before he rearranged them into his characteristic poker face. Calle looked him up and down, and cast his eyes to the suitcase on the ground behind Bård.

“Are you moving in?” Calle asked.

“Yeah I’m your new live-in housekeeper. You can pay me in pesos and blow jobs” He muttered dryly, noting how hard Calle tried to suppress his smile. Mercifully Calle let him in without any further explanation. As Bård walked into the house he noted with curiosity all the little touches Calle had added to make it into his home. He smiled as they turned the corner into the living room, admiring the wall they had painted the night Calle moved in.

“Do you want a coke?” Calle questioned, already making his way into the kitchen.

“Actually can I have a coffee? It's been so long since I've had a decent one” he replied, following Calle.  

Bård watched Calle prep the coffee machine, wondering if he should say something. Do something. He managed to locate a couple of mugs, including one which read 'nå alt kan skje', which Bård selected for himself because it seemed fitting somehow. He placed the mugs on the counter right when Calle reached for the sugar, and their hands brushed together. This lightest of touches sent a tingle down his spine. They finished making the coffee and moved into the living room.

Calle had a new sofa which Bård envied. It was pale grey, soft upholstery and it was easily deep enough to accommodate two. Calle sat down and Bård followed suit, sinking down on the other side and resting his head on the comfy cushion. When he looked back up he saw Calle eyeing him curiously. 

"What are you doing all the way over there?"

Calle scooted over to Bård's side of the sofa, shifting so he was half kneeling and facing Bård as he moved ever closer. Bård's heart raced as their lips grazed together, but he just couldn’t switch his brain off.

“Uh Calle. I must warn you. I’ve just got back from a twenty hour journey. I haven’t showered yet. I haven’t even brushed my teeth. Shall I-?”

Calle cut him off with a brief kiss, licking his lip as he withdrew. “You taste good” Calle affirmed in a sensual tone as he moved in again. This time Bård opened his mouth a little wider, allowing Calle’s tongue to glide in and explore. For as long as he could remember he had been the assertive lover, setting the pace and being completely assured in his actions. Yet now he recognised in himself something he hadn’t experienced for a long time when taking things to the next level. Nerves. So he let Calle guide the pace, and his pulse quickened as the man pushed against him with a force that caused him to lie down on his back and climbed on top of him. Rough hands gripped his wrists and pinned them level with his head in a firm, restrictive touch. Just like that he let himself be overwhelmed, both emotionally and physically.

Calle kissed him again. He kissed him with an intensity that Bård couldn’t remember experiencing before. His stubble grazed Bård’s chin and it felt like the pressure would push him through the sofa. Calle only paused to take off his t-shirt and help Bård out of his before crashing back down, skin-on-skin.  This was definitely not like being with a woman. Bård’s earlier nerves were allayed as they gave way to arousal. He whimpered with need as Calle attacked his throat, kissing and sucking hungrily as his hands roamed down Bård’s chest, all the way down to the waistband of his sweatpants.

 It was in a haze of lust that they shed the rest of their clothes, but it was not without its awkward moments as the cuffs of Bård’s sweatpants were momentarily stuck on his feet. Such was Calle’s urgency that he swore as he finally yanked off the offending article. Bård laughed at the absurdity of it all, causing Calle to do the same. Yet when Calle fell back down onto his naked body it suddenly wasn’t so funny anymore. He had felt Calle’s erection through his Jeans, but it was nothing like the sensation of feeling it rubbing against his own. Calle moved his hips, and the delicious sensations elicited from the friction of the motion were indescribable. Both were panting with intense need as they moved together. 

“Calle, please touch me” Bård eventually managed to choke out, struggling to catch his breath. Calle needed no further cues, taking him in hand and grasping firmly. Calle began his exquisite strokes, quickly picking up the pace as he was encouraged by the sounds that Bård was emitting. Bård’s eyes rolled in his head as Calle’s actions wiped out all but the sensation of his building orgasm. He came suddenly, crying out in pleasure as pain as Calle looked down on him, glory evident in his beautiful face. 

“I love you” Calle whispered, as Bård lay wide-eyed and panting beneath him. As he leaned down to kiss Bård he said it again, but the words sounded as if from underwater as drowsiness threatened to overcome him.

He must've been asleep for a few hours, judging by the dusky hue that filtered through the curtains. Bård couldn’t even remember falling asleep. His last recollection was being spooned on the sofa as he played idly with Calle’s fingers. He remembered noticing a scar on Calle's left thumb. He resolved to ask Calle how he got that scar. He bet it was a good story. Calle appeared again, now dressed in a t-shirt and boxers, placing two new mugs down onto the table in front of them.

“We didn’t even touch our last coffees” He explained, slightly abashed.

“Isn’t it a bit late for coffee?” Bård enquired, sitting upright so Calle could sit down.

“Not for what I have in mind” Calle bit his lip, placing his hand on Bård’s naked thigh. 

“Which is…?”  

“Us, going to my room, testing out the bed we made” The hand travelled further up his thigh as Calle spoke, but was interrupted by Bård reaching around and hitting Calle with a scatter cushion.

“Fuck’s sake Calle, you’re so lame” Bård giggled, but then a thought popped into his head that was equally corny, perhaps even more so. It was that he was amazed at how two fucked-up broken hearts could come together and form something completely new and shining. He would never dare say that though. Instead he took Calle’s hand and looked him straight in the eye.

“…But I don't care. I still love you”.  

 

 


End file.
